A Slip of the Tongue
by JudithWilde
Summary: Excerpt: I'm not ready to hear whatever she has to say, and I don't need to anyway, since I'm already aware of what it's going to be. Something about not wanting to risk what we already have which is a stable and invaluable friendship. It's what I would say if it were the other way around. So why does it hurt when I imagine her telling me I already know?


I don't do relationships. I've seen my fair share of mammals, who seemed crazy about each other, fall apart and I sure as hell wasn't going to be apart of it. So why, I ask, did I let my brain trick me into getting attached? And why, why, why did I think it would be a good idea to open my idiotic mouth? She's staring at me, eyes wide with a question forming on her lips. This is not at all how I wanted movie night to go. I stay rooted in denial, somehow believing that she didn't hear the words I said so clearly, not even a foot away from her. The idea calms me enough to pull my expression into it's usual disinterested stare. The soft glow of the television screen moves across her features, as "The Taming of the Shrew" plays on, now only background noise. _C'mon Fluff, just look at the screen and pretend I said nothing_ , I plead within my thoughts, but she continues to dart her eyes across my face, probably searching for the expression that I'm hiding. Everything feels like an eternity as I wait for her response, and I fight the urge to play it off as a joke, knowing she'd see right through it. She takes a slow, audible breath and I'm not sure if it's been seconds or minutes since my confession fell from my lips, but the wait is unbearable. I think I've made her speechless so I attempt to say something that doesn't completely demolish the friendship we have.

"I- uh" I begin speaking but my stupid mouth can't seem to get any words to string together coherently. Her brows pull together and she looks down, breaking eye contact. My stomach drops at this small movement and then knots up when her eyes return to mine. She already hurt me once, and I forgave her, but never forgot so I don't know whether to hope for my words to be ignored or for them to be responded to. It feels like she has the power to crush me with a simple phrase and I hate it. Now I'm wide open waiting for an attack that I can't defend myself from. Finally, in an excruciatingly slow exhale, she says my name and I want to run. I close my eyes, mentally scolding myself for my slip of tongue. All she did was look at me. Only a few moments ago her eyes held mine tenderly, a soft smile curving her lips, and the words just spilled out. The words I had only ever said jokingly or within my mind.

I hear her begin to speak but my brain doesn't want to decipher what she's saying, and I don't let it. I'm not ready to hear whatever she has to say, and I don't need to anyway, since I'm already aware of what it's going to be. Something about not wanting to risk what we already have which is a stable and invaluable friendship. It's what I would say if it were the other way around. So why does it hurt when I imagine her telling me I already know? I allow myself one more moment of ignorance, take a breath, and listen. I stare blankly at her, letting her words register and in my head.

"Say that again," I say, meaning for it to come out as a question, only for it to escape as a desperate demand.

My response must have been amusing because she gives her toothy smile that seems to brighten the dim-lit room. "I love you too." She doesn't say it in a joking or teasing way like anytime before, as friends do. Her words are sincere and now the question that's been sitting in the back of my mind for months has an answer _ **.**_ I can't fight the stupid grin spreading across my lips as Judy leans in closer to me and turns to watch the movie again, completely oblivious to the minor freak out I just went through. My whole life I've been so used to being let down that the warm rushes of relief hit me hard enough to make my eyes water, blurring my vision. Finally, I let myself hope that I might just have the happy life that I gave up on years ago. She feels warm and I watch the small movements of her ears as she listens to the movie, and the rise and fall of her chest that comes with her breaths. Every detail showing evidence of life that will eventually leave her before the year ends. I let out a contented sigh and pull her closer to me, unaware of this fact.


End file.
